pigshitpoet

Numbers; Old Deuteronomy



The world looms thick over my head,
my artificial heart yanked out of bed
my sleep filled head riddled with anxiety
heart drum beat pounds, "red,red,red!"
"redrum" for murder, "redrum" for tired...
or hung over, overhung
Thoughts churn round loud, anemic,
loss of blood from yesterday, like
a well-oiled mechanical wheel of industry
progress inches forth, froth at the mouth
I drag my headache with me, loud
louder, loudest, LOUD! "quiet!"
I scream out loud, but I am only
shouting at myself, I get out of bed
riddled with fear and anxiety
eyes pry open, hold my breath
in its gaze, suppress my aches,
drag my stinking carcass into the shower
and into my threads across the grass
and into my ford and drive away
thinking to find fuel and coffee
somewhere up in Canada, gotta keep up!
keep up with appearances,
gotta maintain your job – I say your job,
because I have your job...
I was looking for a job, when I found this one
– can't be a burden on society,
must hold up your end, too bad you lose,
too bad, I win! Can't be a burden
or they'll lock you up, so you can't hurt yourself
and they'll throw away the key,
– what am i saying? they can't afford to lock you up
you'll be out on the street
self-administering drugs or EST, or if you don't respond
then they'll throw away the key,
Sometimes you have choice
I hold the key to the future, albeit bleak,
in the palm of my hand, riding in my El Dorado,
pumping gas at every stop,
follow life's path, running on froth, grinning foolishly
I am the clown hoping to get from A to B in one piece
This time, time is simply a number on a clock
Caught between places to go, my week in limbo
my weak limbs, suspended in clocks, dangle and clang,
click and stick, like good luck charms, I look at my watch,
Time slips away, my hands are stuck;
Remember childhood? ... fragments of a dream
Life is but a memory that keeps recurring
at 80 cycles per second, faster than a pendulum
or the movement of the earth – That's Pilgrim's Progress!
Deliverance with diligence from "digi-lance"
Hard work was once the rule
Now speed has the wheel,
and access is what's call for,
"Take the next exit", able to traverse great distances
at the wave of a wand, at the flip of a hand,
at the speed of thought, at the thought of the world
Google "earth", this GPS
They're tracking my license plate long after I'm dead
even as we speak – whatever "who"they are"?
like they ever cared, leading me to believe
if I take care of the little things,
life will come to me. That works only for a little while
until we have shortcomings, through our shortsightings,
small weaknesses, shortness of breath

my tongue is mute, the point is moot, i lost "ma muse"



darn wall